The officiating clergy were two bishops and twelve priests. The church was filled to overflowing. A hush fell on the vast gathering as I was asked to step forward and give my name. I was seized with fear, as if in the presence of God Himself. The standard that was to be consecrated was placed in my hand and two old battle flags were crossed over it, hiding me almost completely in their folds. The officiating bishops then addressed me, dwelling upon the unprecedented honour implied in the dedication of an army standard for a woman.
It was not customary to inscribe the name of a Commander on the flag of a military unit, he explained, but the name of Maria Bochkareva was emblazoned on this standard, which, in case of my death, would be returned to the Cathedral and never used by another Commander. As he spoke and said the prayers, in the course of which he sprinkled me three times with holy water, I prayed to the Lord with all my heart and might. The ceremony lasted about an hour, after which two soldiers, delegates from the First and Third armies presented to me two icons, given by fellow-soldiers, with inscriptions on the cases, expressing their trust in me as the woman who would lead Russia to honour and renown.
I was humbled. I did not consider myself worthy of such honours. When asked to receive the two icons I fell on my knees before them and prayed for God’s guidance. How could I, an ignorant woman, justify the hope and trust of so many brave and enlightened sons of my country?
General Kornilov, representing the army, then presented me with a revolver and sword with handles of gold.
“You have deserved these gallant weapons, and you will not disgrace them,” he said, and kissed me on the cheek.
I kissed the sword, and pledged myself never to disgrace the weapons and to use them in the defence of my country.
Kerensky then pinned the epaulets of a Lieutenant on my shoulders, promoting me to the rank of an officer. He, also, kissed me, and was followed by some of the distinguished guests, who congratulated me warmly.
The high officials departed and General Polovtzev took charge for the rest of the day. I was too overcome to regain my self-possession quickly. I was raised up by the hands of General Polovtzev and General Anosov first. Then some officers of junior rank carried me. Next I was raised above the crowd by some enthusiastic soldiers, and dragged out of their hands by even more jubilant sailors. All the time I was very uncomfortable, but the ovation continued and the cheers would not subside. Women in the throng forced their way to me, kissing my feet and blessing me. It was a patriotic throng, and love for Russia was the dominant note. Orators mounted improvised platforms and talked of the coming offensive and the Battalion of Death, finishing with a “Long live Bochkareva!” The emotion of the soldiers at the moment was such that they cried: “We will go with Bochkareva to the front.” Speakers pointed to the women as heroes, calling upon every able-bodied man to rise to the defence of Russia.
It was a wonderful day: a dream, not a day. Had my fancy come true? Had this group of women already accomplished the object for which it was organized? It seemed so that day. I felt that Russia’s manhood was ready to follow the Battalion and strike the final blow for the salvation of the country.
It was an illusion, and my disenchantment was not very long delayed. But it was such a beautiful illusion that I gained enough strength from it to work patiently for its renewal and realization. What those thousands of Russian soldiers, assembled in the neighbourhood of the St. Isaac’s Cathedral, felt on June 25, 1917, was the thrill that comes from self-sacrifice for the truth, from unselfish devotion to the Motherland, from lofty idealism. It convinced me that the millions of Russian soldiers, scattered over their vast country, were amenable to the word of truth, and instilled into me faith in the ultimate restoration of my country.
After the consecration of the Battalion’s standard, there remained less than two days before leaving for the front. These were spent in preparations. We had to organize a supply unit of our own, as we could not take with us the kitchen of the Guard Regiment that we had used. Also, every member of the Battalion received complete war equipment.
On June 29 we left the grounds of the Institute and marched to the Kazan Cathedral, on the way to the railway station. The bishops addressed us, dwelling upon the significance of the moment and blessing us. Again large crowds followed us into the Cathedral and to the station. When we started out from the church a group of Bolsheviks blocked our way. The women immediately began to load their rifles. I ordered them to stop this, put my sword in the scabbard, and marched forward to the Bolsheviks.
“Why do you block the way? You scoff at us women, claiming that we can’t do anything. Then, why did you come here to interfere with our going? It is a sign that you are afraid of us,” I said to them. They dispersed, jeering.
Accompanied by the hearty cheers of the people who lined the streets, we marched to the station. Our train consisted of twelve vans and one second-class passenger coach. We boarded the train under orders to proceed to Molodechno, the headquarters of the First Siberian Corps, to which the Battalion was to be attached.
The journey was a triumphal procession. At every station we were hailed by crowds of soldiers and civilians. There were cheers, demonstrations and speeches. My women had strict orders not to leave the cars without permission. Our meals were provided for us at certain stations, through telegraphic orders, and we alighted for our meals at those places. At
